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The day after her blood relatives leave for good, Tara falls asleep while reading a spell book in The Magic Box. She's been running on fumes for days. Not surprising.
What is surprising is that she wakes up with a blanket draped over her. Who could—?
She sees the likely culprit, busy dusting a bookshelf.
"…Giles?"
He pauses. "Hello. Sleep well?"
"I d-didn't mean t—"
"You've had quite a week. You clearly needed it."
He isn't wrong about that. Still, there's a more pressing issue at hand: "...The blanket."
"Yes?"
"That was your doing, wasn't it."
The man hums in reply, endearingly unsubtle.
"…Thank you." She can't help but smile.
Giles smiles back in kind. "It's the least I can do."
"Why?"
He gives her a look as if to say, Remember yesterday? She thinks back to how Willow's—no, her friends, now—formed a human shield against her relatives. We're her family, they said, loud and clear.
It feels too good to be true. But, it is true, and Tara still can't believe it. She's moved by the gesture, so much so that she feels almost guilty. She doesn't deserve this. But... if Giles, an unbiased, non-Willow party thinks so... then maybe, she does deserve this kindness.
"If you'd prefer," Giles goes on, "there's a cot inside the training room, which I imagine would be far more comfortable. I'll tell Willow when she comes back where you are."
As she thanks him, she stands up, taking the blanket with her. He offers her a hand, and before she knows it, he's lead her to Buffy's training room.
Soon, Tara is set up, blanket, cot, and all, ready to nap. "Sleep well," Giles says as he turns off the lights, his words punctuated with a fondness that warms Tara's heart.